


Close Your Eyes And Let Yourself Fall

by DemonDean10



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind John, Blindness, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Fake Medical Conditions, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Cynthia or Jane, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-12-30 06:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDean10/pseuds/DemonDean10
Summary: Inspired by @the-beat-allsDuring an early Beatles tour, the stress and anxiety starts getting to John to the point where (though dodgy medical reasons) his vision leaves. Now the band most take care of a blind John and hope that their comfort will ease their friend and give his sight back.





	1. Hey, Who Turned Off The Lights

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudo if u got my doctor who reference

It was dark when John woke up. He could feel Paul’s body curled up next to his, the younger man’s breath comforting in the darkness. But why was it dark? Surely it had been hours since the two had fallen asleep. He heard Paul stirring beside him.

 

Paul groaned, “Hmm, Johnny?”

 

John felt around for his hand, “Yeah?”

 

His partner squeezed his hand, “Mornin’” His voice was groggy with sleep. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

 

John huffed out a laugh, “Hard to tell with the blinds down, go raise them, no?”

 

There was a silence. Then-

 

“The blinds  _ are _ up, Johnny.” There was confusion in Paul’s voice as well as a touch of amusement. 

 

John scoffed, “Yeah, right. Don’t play games now,” He said, “I can’t see a damn thing.”

 

There was shuffling behind him, indicating that Paul was sitting up. “Johnny, look at me.” A warm hand came round to grasp his cheek and turn his head around. 

 

John blinked a few times, he couldn’t even distinguish Paul’s shape. It really had to be dark in the room.

 

Paul’s breath was ragged as he said, “Wait here.” And he stood up.

 

John was confused, “Macca? Paul, what’s wrong? Just turn on the lights or something.”

 

“That’s the plan.” Paul was in front of him again and a click was heard. 

 

John was frowning, “...Did you turn them on?”

 

“Johnny…” Came Paul’s tense voice, “I’m shining a torchlight right at your eyes. Your pupil is dilated, can you not see it?”

 

John forced a laugh, “Okay, stop this now.” He couldn’t see a damn thing. 

 

Paul took in a deep breath and got closer to John to better observe the eyes. Nothing. They weren’t focusing on anything. 

 

John moved back slightly, “Why are you so close?” There was no answer. “Paul, what’s the matter with you?”

 

“...we need to call a doctor.” Paul said, “ _ Now _ .”

 

* * *

 

Three Beatles, a manager, and a roadie watched as Doctor Jones examined John Lennon’s eyes thoroughly. He’d been called in by the hotel physician, who specialized in colds and flus, not...blindness.

 

“Well?” Asked an impatient John, “Are you all done with your little prank? I thought we had shit to do.” He refused to even consider the possibility that this wasn’t a prank. John couldn’t be blind, it wasn’t plausible. 

 

Paul longer to go to his lover’s comfort, but he couldn’t risk it with the doctor there. 

 

“I’m afraid, Mr Lennon,” Started the doctor, “That this is no prank. You seem to have developed a strong case of temporary blindness, caused by stress no doubt as I’ve yet to see a physical reason for it.”

 

John seemed unable to respond and he open and closed his mouth a few times, “I,I-This isn’t funny anymore, guys.”

 

“We’re not playing a game, John.” Came Ringo’s gentle voice. 

 

“Tell me,” Said Doctor Jones, “Have you recently been experiencing brief flashes of darkness? Dimming of lights? Blurred vision? Even more so than usual for a man of your poor vision.”

 

The others stared at John as they awaited an answer. What would they do now? Brian worried not only for John, but for the tour. Mal worried about his safety now that he was completely blind. And his bandmates just wanted to go and comfort the lost looking boy, Paul especially.

 

John’s head was bowed, “...yes.” He admitted, “I thought it was just exhaustion.”

 

The doctor hummed, “I’m afraid not, Mr.Lennon. But indeed, this condition is caused by stress, anxiety, and the like. Do you follow?”

 

John nodded numbly.

 

George spoke up, “But you said this is temporary, yeah? He’ll be fine soon?”

 

The doctor began to gather his instruments, “Well...the only other ever reported case of such a thing suffered this condition for a few days, but it was not a case of total blindness and darkness as your bandmate reports.” He looked up and said, not unkindly, “Only time will tell.”

 

Brian was the first to recover, “Thank you, doctor. Any recommendations to  help speed up the process?”

 

The doctor picked up his bag and turned to face the manager, “Mr.Lennon must relax, rest. I understand the young man faces incredible stressors in this line of work, so I would recommend comforting him as much as possible.” In a whisper, “The latest patient to have this condition suffered from bouts of depression and mania...does this sound familiar with Mr.Lennon?”

 

Brian sighed after a look at his charge, “I’m, I’m afraid so. He’s undergone many difficulties during his life, I’m afraid he’s yet to deal with most.”

 

The doctor nodded as if expecting this. “Then, Mr.Epstein, the time is now. I am no psychiatrist, but I  _ can _ tell you that unless that young man ‘unwinds’ as it were and finds some, some peace...his sight will not return.” He nodded and left the suite. 

 

Brian looked at the ground, searching for solutions impossible to have. 

 

Finally, Paul and the other two headed for their friend. 

 

“Are you okay, luv?” Paul asked, rubbing a soft hand over John’s arm. 

 

The older man curled up slightly, “Do we, em, have anything to do today?”

 

“I’ll cancel everything for now, John.” Said Brian with a smile at the younger man. But then it dropped as he remembered he wouldn’t be able to see it. 

 

John started to stand up, “I think I’m just going to bed then.”

 

They all nodded, understand with pity. 

 

“You go and get some rest, eh lad?” Said Ringo, comfortingly patting the other’s back, and George gripped his shoulder.

 

Paul stood close as John stood up, cautious of the other’s ability to move around. His concerns were proven as John bumped into a table as he walked. “Here, let me guide you, Johnny.” He put his arm through John’s and intertwined their hands. 

 

It was a testament to his shock that the older man didn’t put up a fight and only nodded at the ground. 

 

* * *

 

They were laying in bed, John curled up in Paul’s arms. The bassist was holding the other’s head close to his chest and brushing his hair. He’d sung his lover to sleep, worrying about what the future would bring. Would Johnny be okay soon? Or would his blindness become permanent? What would they tell the world, that John had gotten so stressed his brain had decided that shutting down his sight was the best option? 

 

He tried to imagine life with a blind John, imagined his best friend with red glasses and a cane...he knew John would rather die than be denied the beauty of the world. The singer had yet to explode, still in the aftermath of shock, but soon he’d let his feelings out and Paul would be there to hold him up. 

 

He promised himself that, Paul did. Johnny would not be alone through this. They would stick together and make it work, as a team. 

 

John stirred in his arms, eyes opening and blinking a few times. Paul held his breath but was met with disappointment when John’s empty voice said-

 

“I still can’t see.” 

 

Paul leaned down to press a kiss on his forehead, “The doctor said it could take a few days.”

 

John didn’t answer. He only leaned against Paul and closed his eyes. If his eyes were closed he could just pretend that the darkness was an eyelid. 

 

Paul held back a sigh. “Johnny…? Do you want to talk?”

 

The older man scoffed, “What’s there to talk about? I’m blind. Always knew it would happen what with my damn genes, but this takes the fucking cake!” 

 

John was about to break down, Paul knew and so he held him tighter. “This isn’t permanent.”

 

“Oh, how do you know?” John said in a mean tone, yet didn’t move away from the other’s comforting grasp. “That damn doctor barely knew what he was talking about, ‘only recorded patient,’ fuckin’ fantastic.”

 

Paul was silent for a few moments. Then, “What can I do?”

 

John sighed and let out a trembling breath. He blinked his eyes open and shut many times, hoping against hope that one of those times he’d be able to see the face of the man he loved. But no such thing happened. “Just…” He started, daring his voice not to break, “Just hold me.”

 

And Paul did. He held his lover as he started to shake, and rocked him as the tears started to fall. “I’ve got you, Johnny. I’ve got you.” He promised. 

 

John sniffed into his shoulder and whimpered. He wanted to scream and yell and hit something, but all he could do was cry. Cry for the sight that had flown away, never so appreciated than right now.

 

And on the next room over, George and Ringo heard the muffled whimpers of their strong leader and promised to make sure John got back on his feet. They’d raise him up as he’d done for them before. John would get better, that they were certain of.


	2. Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un petit chapitre pour mes amis

The next morning was quiet, the weight of yesterday’s news heavy on everyone’s shoulders. The band and Brian were sitting around the breakfast table, Mal and Neil in another room, waiting for John to show up.

 

He had locked himself in the restroom and refused to come out. Paul had asked him if he wanted help but John had asked him to leave. Not yelled, not growled, asked. This is what worried Paul, apart from his breakdown the night before John had yet to express much emotion concerning his...condition.

 

All four of them were taken away from their breakfast by the sound of a door opening. John walked out slowly, wearing a big pair of sunglasses in his face.

 

Paul stood up quickly and went to guide him.

 

John moved away from his touch, “No.” He said, “I wanna do it.”

 

Paul sighed but stayed away.

 

John walked forwards tentatively, hands out to feel if he was about to hit anything. He’d put on the sunglasses (identified by their shape) because that way he could get away with pretending that the reason he couldn’t see was because they were really (really) dark. That’s how he would get by, he’d just do his best to live as normally as possible. He was fine. There was nothing wrong.

 

He reached the table after banging against the counter and making everyone wince.

 

George took out a chair for him, “Here, John.” He touched John’s arm so that he could tell where the chair was.

 

John offered a thin smile. Once he was seated he hesitated and was silent for a few moments. “I, eh, where are the cornflakes?”

 

Ringo was quick to pour him a bowl, he put it in front of John with a smile.

 

John moved his hand around the table trying to find a spoon and registered someone, probably Paul, putting one in his hand. He let out an irritated breath, John wanted to do things himself not have to rely on others. He brought the spoon down in much to fast and hit the edge of the bowl, toppling it over. “Shit.” He cursed as he felt milk fall on his trousers.

 

The others jumped to help him clean it up. Paul took his arm, “It’s alright, Johnny. Let go get a new pair, yeah?”

 

John ripped his arm away and stood up, nearly tripping over the chair. “Stop treating me like a child!” He yelled and tried to walk away but ended up bumping a kitchen cabinet.

 

“John, lad, we’re just trying to help.” Ringo tried to explain.

 

“Well, stop.” He hissed, “I’m fine.” He felt around with his arms and walked away.

 

Paul moved to grab his arm, “Here, let me help-”

 

“Leave me alone!” John screeched at him. “I can do fuckin’ well do this on my fuckin’ own! So fuck off!”

 

Paul flinched away at the outburst. He took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Johnny,” He started, “I get that this is new, but we’re here to help you. You can’t do this on your own. Everything will be okay-”

 

“Nothing is fuckin’ okay, Paul.” John removed the glasses and threw them at the ground, “I’m fuckin’ blind! I can’t see shit. That bloody doctor didn’t know anything, I could be like this for forever.”

 

Paul walked forwards and put two firm hands on his lover’s shoulders. “Johnny, you can’t think like this. You will get your sight back.”

 

John just shook his head, defeated. He stepped away and turned around. “I’m not hungry.” And he walked back to the room, Paul stopping him in front of their door and opening it for him. John just sighed.

 

Meanwhile, the rest of the men looked at each other in loss. What could they do to help John? What could anyone do?

 

 

* * *

 

 

They were on a plane on their way to the next city. John had worn sunglasses during the entirety of the day and had had Paul lead him discreetly. Eppy hadn’t found a way to delay their next concert and so there they were on their way to whatever city was next.

 

John was sitting away from all of them, curled up in an ugly position.

 

Paul looked towards his lover with a crease on his forehead.

 

“Let him rest.” Said Ringo, holding five cards in his hands, “He needs to think about stuff.”

 

Paul sighed, “I guess.”

 

George bumped his arm, “We’ll be here when he’s ready, Paul. You need to relax.”

 

Paul wanted to argue, but he knew they were right. Or were they?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Luckily, they didn’t have a press conference that day and they could go straight to their rooms. With a gentle hand in the small of John’s back, Paul led his boyfriend to their bedroom.

 

“Remember boys, we are leaving in two hours.” Brian said to their retreating backs.

 

Seeing that John was not about to respond, Paul spoke for both of them, “Alright, Brian. We’ll be ready.”

 

John walked a few steps forwards as he entered the room, “Two beds?” He asked.

 

Paul walked to his side, “Yeah, but don’t worry I’ll move them together.”

 

Their suitcases were next to the beds and their suits were hanged on the wardrobe door. Paul took John’s , “Do you wanna take a bath before the show?”

 

John just shrugged.

 

Paul looked at him with pity and sighed. He put the suit down and went to John, wrapping his arms around him. “You’re going to be okay, darling. I’m right here. All of us are here to help.”

 

John shook his head but Paul just held him tighter.

 

“Yes, John. It’s okay to need help.” Paul kissed his forehead, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

John scoffed and shifted away, “Really? I got so stressed I went blind, don’t see you lads being this, this weak.”

 

Paul sat them down of the bed, “It’s not weakness, John. I don’t know why this happened to you, but it’s not your fault.”

 

John was silent for a few minutes, until he sighed and said, “Yeah, I’d like a bath.”

 

Paul stood up, “I’ll go prepare the tub.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The gig was about to start and Paul couldn’t find John anywhere. Earlier, his boyfriend had been quiet as Paul helped him bathe. John had needed help to get into the tub but apart from that he washed and cleaned himself. But dressing himself was another matter. The shirt was easy, but the trousers and belt and tie had needed Paul’s help. The younger man could see that John wasn’t happy with needing so much help to do basic things.

 

They had eaten a sandwich before leaving the hotel, nobody in the party daring to say that the insides of John’s were quietly falling off and into the plate.

 

And they were at the concert hall now, two minutes from showtime, yet not John. Paul hadn’t even noticed his boyfriend disappear, a fact he was now beating himself up for. They were next to the stage, now John could be anywhere. He could have somehow gotten outside, or in the audience, or tripped over something and fallen in a hole…

 

He walked through the passages of the backstage and asked around, “Has anyone seen John Lennon? Lennon? Yes, John Lennon, has anyone seen him?”

 

Finally a young man pointed him over to a restroom, saying he’d pointed Lennon over there earlier and even opened the door for him.

 

“Thank you.” Said Paul and walked over there. He knocked, “Johnny, you in there?”

 

The loud sounds from everything around him stopped him from hearing an answer. Sighing, he touch the knob and found it unlocked.

 

He walked in to find John over the toilet, puking his insides out. He noticed, with a sadness and frustration, that there was some vomit outside of the toilet. He knelt behind his boyfriend and rubbed his back, “What’s wrong, Johnny?”

 

John shook his head, “I can’t go on.” He rasped, “I,I’ll make a fool of myself and trip and fall and the audience will eat me and I can’t-“

 

Paul hushed him, “Of course you won’t fall, luv. I’m going to be right there, it’ll be fine-“

 

“No!” Interrupted John in a wretched tone. “It won’t be, I can’t fucking see a thing! How am I supposed to perform? I’m useless!”

 

“Johnny, that’s not-“

 

“Don’t lie to me, Paul. Please.” John was struggling not to cry, determined to stop showing weakness. But it was hard after puking out everything he had and hadn’t in his stomach.

 

Paul thought for a moment. “Do you want me to talk to Brian and have him cancel?”

 

John coughed and held his head, “Could ye?”

 

Paul smiles softly and nodded, “Of course.”

 

John reaches around for Paul’s hand, then brought it up to kiss his palm. “I love you.”

 

Paul smiled with teary eyes, feeling for his partner in this difficult time, and leaned to kiss him on the lips, ignoring the taste of vomit still lingering.  “I love you, darling. We’re gonna get through this, I promise.”

 

John offered him a smile in return.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudo even if u didnt get my doctor who reference


End file.
